


The Art of Living

by AvaMclean



Category: Supernatural, The Return - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaMclean/pseuds/AvaMclean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Azazel discovers a child from the previous generation that survived the purging and pits her against the would-be soldiers of this generation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Living

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This fic takes place a year after the movie, "The Return" and during the episodes, “All Hell Breaks Loose, Parts I & II.” Dialogue taken from the episodes written by Sera Gamble, Eric Kripke and Michael T. Moore.

Title :: The Art of Living  
Rating :: FR15  
Disclaimer :: Supernatural and all related characters are copyright Eric Kripke, Kripke Enterprises & The CW Network. The Return and all related characters are copyright of Adam Sussman and Rogue Pictures. No infringement intended.  


Synopsis :: Azazel discovers a child from the previous generation that survived the purging and pits her against the would-be soldiers of this generation. 

 

+

 

_La Salle, Texas  
37 years ago_

The young mother leaned forward, over her infant daughter to pull on the plastic handle between the Jolly Jumping Jack’s legs. The toys eyes began to shift back and forth and his limbs lifted up and dropped down from his place on the side of the crib as the string slowly disappeared. A happy squeaking sound emanated from the toy and her daughter cooed, tiny feet working against the flannel sheets as her head shifted toward the sound and a fist found its way to her mouth. Where several of her knuckles were sucked greedily inside as her mother bent over the cradle’s edge to brush a light kiss across her forehead. 

The young mother pulled back, smiling as she made her way from the room and closed the door so that only a crack of light could enter from the hall. A moment passed and the toy fell silent as the baby continued to kick her bootie covered feet and her head rolled, blue eyes focusing on the mobile above as her mouth continued to work over her fisted hand. The cutout images of Timmy the Turtle began to rock from side to side before the mobile creaked and began to slowly rotate. She gurgled around her hand and her feet lifted higher, knees coming up towards her stomach as she watched the toy come to life. 

A shadow separated itself from the wall, leaching its way forward until it came abreast with the crib and Jolly Jack’s limbs and eyes began their steady movement again. The baby’s head shifted, hand falling away as she watched her favorite toy squeak and dance. The figure hovering beside her crib lifted a balled fist and placed it over the crib, over the infant and he drew the thumbnail of his opposite hand through the delicate skin of his wrist. 

“Annie.”

The whispered call of her name drew the infant’s blue eyes back to center and they met with molted yellow. Her mouth opened into a nearly toothless grin and her feet worked faster. His fisted hand turned, tilting his wound over the baby’s opened mouth and several drops of blood coated her tongue, slipping down her throat. 

“That’s it my sweet Annie.” 

She cooed. 

 

_Cold Oak, South Dakota  
Present Day_

Lashes fluttered against pale cheeks and the scent of mildew pulled Joanna Mills from the uncomfortable arms of Morpheus. Green eyes opened, brows sloping at the unfamiliar ceiling above her and she sat up, wincing as her back protested. Her breath misted on the cold air and she pulled her jean covered knees up, pushing the heels of her cowboy boots into the worn wood floors that had made her bed and shoved herself onto her feet. 

Small hands brushed at her slightly damp backside and she turned, glancing around the broken, beaten down bar surrounding her. Her mouth thinned, the crease between her brows deepening as she swallowed and stepped forward, around an overturned barstool and toward the aged wood creating the bar. The glass wall backing it was sectioned into small squares and several of those sections were shattered, fracturing her reflection. She’d blacked out again. She sighed, just what her life needed, as she was finally getting it back on track, more mind-fucks. 

Jo’s lips curved further downward as she stepped away from the bar and slipped a hand into the pocket of her slim jeans, searching for her spring blade. The familiar honey horn handle filled her palm and she tugged it free, compressing the edge and she turned away from the bar as the blade sprung outward, narrow and dangerous. She twisted her hand so that the knife came to rest against her wrist, inside the sleeve of her jacket as she turned, making her way back to the entrance. 

A crack in the front doors was leaking in the damp cold from the outside and the white tank she wore beneath her jean jacket was little protection. She sighed and brought the knife to her mouth, gripping the blade between her teeth before dropping her hands to grasp the sides of her jacket. Chilled fingers caught either side and tugged them together so that she could zip the dark blue material and help block some of the cold that was permeating the room. 

The jacket settled over her chest and she rubbed her arms, attempting to smooth the goosebumps tightening her skin. Her next breath eased between chattering teeth and she reached above and behind her head to pull the elastic band free of her hair, to allow the dark mass of it to fall around her shoulders and be another layer against the cold. Jo adjusted her collar as well before removing the knife from her teeth. Twisting her hand, she resettled the blade against her wrist and moved toward the doors letting in that shuddering cold. 

The front entrance consisted of double doors, held closed by brass slide-locks at the top of the frame. She stepped closer, rising on tiptoe to reach the small knob and exposing her stomach. Ignoring the sudden burst of discomfort against her bare skin, Jo caught the knob and pulled it down. The door trembled as it lost that bit of support and she stumbled back as the top hinge pulled free of the crumbling wood. Her boot heel caught the lip of one of the planks in the floor and she fell backwards on her ass, the blade jabbing into the edge of her forearm.

The pain was instant and intense but soon overshadowed by the sudden roaring in her head and she dropped the knife to gripe her temples as a brilliant, pain-filled light cut across her vision. A pretty blonde stood in front of her, jaw tense and eyes brimming with tears as she shouted, “You don’t know anything! I tri… I accidentally touched my girlfriend.” The words slipped away and there was another flash of white hot pain and the scene shifted, showing the pretty blonde now hanging lifeless from a windmill. 

The vision melted and her stomach turned, her mouth watered, filling with saliva as she fought the urge to lose what little she had eaten the day before. Jo rolled onto her knees and coughed, spitting at the floor beneath her as her stomach continued to rebel and she caught hold of her knife. Fingers wrapping around the handle, knuckles striking, dragging against the worn floor as she continue to try and calm herself with slow even breathes. A shuddered slipped down her spine and she pushed herself up, onto her knees and used the floor to compress the blade back into the handle. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

Her shoulders tightened and she took a moment to slip her knife into a pocket of her jacket before pushing herself all the way to her feet. She stumbled, her head still throbbing and strong hands caught her, held her upright as the world faded and Jo struggled to focus through the pain. Her sight cleared enough that she noticed the desert camo covering the chest of the person holding her. Blinking, she focused on the Army tag sitting above his heart before her chin tilted and she saw concerned brown eyes staring down at her. 

“You okay, ma’am?” He turned, bringing her abreast with him so that they faced the broken door. The entry had been cleared and she hadn’t even noticed the sound—Michelle would have a field day with that tidbit of knowledge right after she reamed Jo about it. 

“Let’s get you outside and to some fresh air.” 

Her brows rose with the almost gentleman like attitude that reminded her of Terry. She flinched away from that train of thought. She didn’t want to think of Terry and of what they—he and Annie had had a lifetime ago. Jo pulled herself free of those feelings and nodded, suddenly thankful for the company, of the distraction her would-be savior had on her thoughts. 

“I’m Jake, by the way.” 

She smiled. “Jo, Joanna really.” 

His smile was welcoming and she found herself returning it as they left the saloon she had woke in and stepped out to a small village of boarded-up shops. Her brows drew together as she looked up and down the mud covered street and wondered where the hell she—they—had found themselves in. “Where are we?” 

She felt Jake’s shrug as he led them across the bent and broken porch. He eased her down the three steps that separated them from the street before having her take a seat on those steps. He settled a hand on her shoulder, but turned away from her to give both sides of the street a curious once over. Her breath was heavy on the air as she pulled her arms in tighter to her body and tucked a pointed chin in, towards her chest. 

“Better?” 

She looked up, saw Jake watching her and nodded before adding, “Colder too.” 

Jake’s lips quirked. “Yeah.” 

“Hello?” 

The both turned their heads and Jo noticed that Jake took a step in front of her, but not enough to block her view of the pretty blonde from her vision. The urge to throw up was back in full force and she ignored the burning in her forearm as the cut she’d given herself suddenly reminded her of its presence. Jake moved forward and Jo took a moment to simply breathe as he greeted the blonde. After a moments hesitation she put her palms against the steps and pushed herself to her feet. 

The world didn’t tilt and Jo took comfort in that fact as she made her way through the mud toward the pair. The blonde caught sight of her and inclined her head. “Who’re you?” 

Her stomach knotted as her vision gained a voice and the beginnings of a personality. “Jo.” 

The blonde watched her for another beat before answering with, “Lily.” 

The skin around Jo’s eyes tightened and she fought the urge to frown, to ask questions and just nodded as Jake took control of the situation. “Alright, so there’s three of us. Think there’s anymore?” Jo and Lily shrugged in unison and Jake nodded. “So let’s find out.” 

He turned away from them and began making his way down the street, head swiveling back and forth as he looked in windows and down alleyways. “Hello?” His voice had a loud booming quality and Jo glanced at Lily, raising her brows in question before following. 

Jake leapt onto a storefront porch that was slightly elevated, gaze flitting every which way. “Hello? Is anybody there?” 

Lily made her way around Jo, giving her a wide berth and Jo arched a brow as the other woman climbed the steps and joined Jake up on the porch. She stepped back, looked up at the two story structure that would have been stunning had someone not left it for rot. She frowned at the glassless windows that decorated the second story. The porch that ran along that upper level was also missing one of the two doors that led onto it and she turned away from the neglected building. Jo’s stomach knotted as the desolations that surround her finally registered full and she suddenly became wreathed in a miasma of despair. 

Jake and Lily made their way along the porch beneath, heading toward the back and away from her. Jo resisted the urge to call out to them, to draw their attention to her shaking hands and her ashen features. Heavy foot falls stalled her thoughts and she turned to watch three new figures make their way down the street towards her and the storefront. Jo slipped her hands into the front pockets of her jacket, right hand curving over her knife. 

The three slowed as they came near her and the person leading the small group stepped forward. “Hello?” 

She offered him a confused smile as he took another step toward her and his greeting became more certain. “Hey, I’m Sam.”

Jake came back around the corner of the building and Sam’s hazel-blue eyes left Jo to study the newest edition to the small group. The other guy from the trio separated himself and stepped toward Jo, offered her a wave from a hand that was in the pocket of his hoodie. 

“I’m Andy.” 

She smiled, despite her confusion. “Jo.” 

Her name caused Sam to turn back towards her for a moment and give her another once over. She pulled her elbows into her body and ducked her head, letting her hair fall forward to create a brown curtain between her and the rest of the group as Jake introduced himself and Lily. 

Sam nodded and asked, “Are there anymore of you?” 

Jake shook his head. “No.”

Lily stepped forward, around Jake and sent the small group a narrow-eyed glare. “How did we even get here? A minute ago I was in San Diego.” 

Jake’s brows rose and he turned to give Lily an even stare. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I went to sleep last night in Afghanistan.”

Jo’s stomach knotted again and she raised her brows. “How is that suppose to make her feel better?” 

Jake shrugged. “Just tryin’ to put things in perspective.” She caught the slightest trace of irony in his words and they exchanged smiles.

Sam interrupted the small moment of understanding as he stepped up onto the porch and addressed them. “Let me take a wild guess. You three are twenty-three?” Jo watched Lily and Jake stiffen and focus more on Sam as her lips thinned in confusion but he was already pushing on before she address the age issue. “We all are. We all have abilities.” 

Jo’s brows rose higher as Jake’s sloped down into a frown and he asked, “What?” 

Sam trudged on. “It started a little over a year ago, and you found you could do things. Things you didn’t think were possible.” He paused, glanced around the small, silent group before offering, “I have visions. I see things before they happen.” 

The blue-eyed girl that had arrived with Sam and Andy stepped forward, her voice hoarse as she stated, “Yeah, me too.” 

A roaring filled Jo’s ears as she realized she wasn’t alone. She wasn’t a freak, was she? Jo was different from them, older and her visions had been of the past until recently, but that didn’t completely alienate her from this small abnormal group. She tuned out Andy’s ramble about mind control, the groups apparent immunity and gay porn, uncertain what the latter had to do with the former but unwilling to ask him to clarify as Lily suddenly drew her attention away from her internal thoughts as her pain, her rage added a tremble to her voice. 

“So you go ‘Simon says gimme your wallet,’ and they do?” Her glare turned on Sam. “You have visions? That’s great. I’d kill for something like that.” 

Sam moved forward, reached out a hand to her. “Lily, listen. It’s okay.” 

She stepped back, shook her head. “No, it’s not. I touch people…” she trailed off swallowed before trying again, “their hearts stop. I can barely leave my house. My life hasn’t exactly improved. So screw you. I just want to go home.” 

“And what, we don’t?” 

Lily spun on Jake, almost raising her hand. “You know, don’t talk to me like that. Nobody—”

Sam interceded, acted as peacekeeper. “Hey guys, come on.” 

Their words faded as Lily’s words and Jo’s vision collided and made perfect, horrible sense and she stated her voice soft. “You touched your girlfriend.” 

Lily’s entire body stiffened with Jo’s words and she spun on the other woman as Sam turned towards her. “What?”

Jo ignored Sam’s inquiry and made her way around the porch towards the now wide-eyed Lily. “You touched her and her heart stopped, didn’t it?” 

Lily’s jaw tensed, nostrils flaring and Jo watched that fresh pain wash over the younger woman as she made her way up the steps and crossed over to her. Jake’s eyes widened as Jo brought her hand up and Lily flinched back. 

“Jo!” 

Sam lunged toward her but it was too late, her hand held Lily’s cold cheek and she drew a thumb through the tear stains that lay there. “The pain of death fades, but that only makes it worse. Doesn’t it?” 

Wide green eyes stared at her, stunned and terrified before Lily’s features crumbled and she fell to her knees. Jo followed her down and pulled the younger woman into her arms as she began to sob. Sam stepped forward, throwing them into his shadow as he stared down at Jo. She lifted her chin and stated simply, “Andy said we were immune to his powers. I assumed we’d be immune to Lily’s.” 

“That assumption could’ve gotten you killed.” 

The gravel tone to Jake’s voice drew Jo’s back up and she turned toward him. “Does that really matter now?” The question silenced any further comments and she ran a gentle hand over Lily’s hair and ignored the thoughtful look Sam was currently aiming her way. 

 

+

 

The small group had separated, Jake leaving them far behind as Ava and Andy hung back, still trying to comprehend everything that Sam had dropped on them. Jo felt Lily’s hand tightened around her own as they followed their quasi-leader and she winced when the taller girl’s thumb ring dug into her skin, leaving a shallow indent. She returned the squeeze halfheartedly and dipped her head, keeping her features, her worry blocked by a curtain of hair as she quickened her steps to catch up with Sam’s long stride and Lily followed. 

His head shifted, chin dipping so that he could meet her gaze as she reached his side. “So we’re soldiers?” 

His chest expanded with a heavy sigh before he nodded. “Yeah, from what I’ve learned. We’re supposed to be soldiers.” 

“And you don’t know why we were picked?” Jo tightened her hand around Lily’s as the other girl joined the conversation and glanced to her right. The blonde was facing forward, her pale eyes narrowed and darting around the street and the shops along it. 

“No,” he gave a derisive laugh, “we’re special I suppose.” 

Lily stopped, halting Jo with a tug on her arm and Sam paused, turned back to meet her angry eyes as she asked, her voice hollow, “Did this _demon_ make us this way?” 

Jo’s brows rose and she glanced back to Sam, waited for his answer as his gaze flitted back and forth between them. “I’m not sure.” 

The blonde frowned. “So I’m a freak by nature. Great.” 

Sam’s eyes narrowed as he stated, “but not the only freak.” 

Jo nodded and squeezed her hand again. “You’re not alone anymore.” 

Lily’s lips quirked at the corners and she nodded. “That’s something I guess.” 

Pale lips parted and Jo prepared herself to tell Lily it was a lot more than ‘something’ when the same bright, hot pain as before speared through her temples and the hand holding Lily’s tightened as her knees gave out. Strong hands caught her ribcage, held her as she collapsed and white light flooded her vision, crystallizing it and Jake stood before a shallow-pallor child wearing a tattered dress. 

The little girl lifted her hands and her fingers lengthened, nails sloping downward as her mouth opened impossibly wide and the light scattered, fragmented only to reform and bring forth the image of Jake’s supine, the little girl straddling his hips as she dug those talon-like nails deeper into his chest and his anguished roar thrummed down her spine as the vision dissipated and she found herself sagged in Sam’s arms. 

“Jo!”

Lily’s frantic call of her name turned her head and she blinked, pushing back the urge to be sick as she attempted to stand on her own only to have her legs revolt. She felt Sam’s wide hands tighten around her ribcage and he shifted, sliding her against his chest and she shook her head. “No, Jake.” 

Sam’s body stiffened and he took several steps, supporting Jo as she stumbled with him until he could sit her on wooden planks of the sidewalk. He squatted, putting himself at eyelevel with her before asking, “What’a’bout Jake?” 

“He’s being attacked.” Her brows sloped and she corrected, “or will be. A little girl, not really a girl though.” 

Sam’s jaw tensed and he caught her chin as it dipped and forced it up, forced Jo to focus. “Where?” 

Her mouth opened, closed before she shook her head, dislodging Sam’s hand and shut her eyes. Shallow pants slipped past parted lips as she tried to remember, tried to look past the sight of that child slicing into Jake and her brows pulled together as she whispered. “There’s desks,” she winced, stomach turning, “so much blood.” She felt Sam’s hands cup her knees, offering silent support and Lily traced a light touch over the crown of her head. Her head lifted, eyes opening wide as she met Sam’s gaze. “There was a chalkboard.” 

“A school.” He stood, took three steps and then paused, glanced back at them.

Lily’s hand cupped the back of Jo’s head and she met his gaze. “Go, I’ll take care of her.” 

He nodded once, trusting her to do the right thing before taking off at a run down the street. His voice echoed as he shouted for Ava and Andy, who had finally began to make their way towards the trio. Jo lifted her head and watched as they pair turned and began to jog to Sam as he lead them toward a small building set apart from the rest. 

Lily folded her lean frame down beside Jo and they watched the three moved further and further away before Jo leaned forward and spat on the ground. Shaking her head, she tried to free it of the images of Jake dead and lying on the ground while she straightened. 

“You alright?” 

Jo spared Lily and absent smile. “Oh, just dandy.” 

“Do the visions always hurt like that?” 

She winced. “Sometimes worse.” 

“Huh.” 

“Yeah.” 

Lily leaned back, bracing her palms against the wood as she stated, “So we get the shaft while Andy rides high?”

Jo opened her mouth to argue and then stopped, cocking her head. “Damn.” 

“That’s what I’m thinking.” 

 

+

 

The cold air burned the back of his throat and lungs as Sam pushed himself faster and leapt onto the small porch, spilling himself forward through the opened door. His eyes widened at the sight of Jake backing away from the child-like creature and his gaze dipped, scanning the room. He bent toward the small coal fireplace and caught a cast-iron stoker in a firm gripe before moving forward and behind the demon. 

His gaze locked with Jake’s for a brief moment before he brought the stoker up and over his right shoulder and then into a downward arch. The demon split in two before dissolving into black smoke that arched around Sam and spiraled up and over Andy and Ava’s heads as they finally reached the entrance to the school. Sam’s jaw tensed when he saw the horror on Ava’s features as she spun with the black cloud, wide blue eyes trained skyward as her hand unconsciously tightened its grip on the doorframe. 

Sam’s shoulders stiffened as he turned back to Jake and sighed. “Just so you know,” he paused waited for Jake to meet his gaze before stating, “ _that_ was a demon.” 

With a shake of his head Sam turned and made his way back to the entrance. He suppressed the urge to smile when he heard Jake’s heavy steps as he hurried to catch up with him. Ava was still watching the cloud covered sky as Andy pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his hoodie before lifting his startled face to Sam. 

“That was a demon?” 

Sam inclined his head. “Yeah, I’m not sure but I think it was an Acheri. Demon that disguises itself as a little girl. Still doesn’t tell us where we are…” he trailed off noticing the glazed like in his sort-of-friend’s eyes and questioned, “Andy? You with me or what?” 

The shortest of the foursome blinked and visibly shook himself before answering. “Give me a minute. I’m still working through demons are _real_ and want us all _dead_.”

Sam’s lips quirked and he sighed, glancing back at Jake. “You alright man?” 

“Yeah, just never thought I’d miss Afghanistan.” 

The two paused and shared a look that Sam was found oddly refreshing since he didn’t have to hunch down or drop his chin to meet the other man’s gaze. His smile stretched before he turned away from Jake and frowned when he saw that Ava gripped her temples. He stepped toward her, concern etching his features into a frown as he asked, “Hey, you okay?” 

Her shoulders stiffened and the hands at her temples slipped to catch the back of her neck and she stretched it forward a moment before shooting him a tired smile. “Just a headache.” 

His brows rose. “Not a vision?” 

She shook her head. “Nope, not this time.” 

He nodded and turned back to Jake. “Jo had one just a moment ago.” 

Jake inclined his head. “’bout me?” 

“Where are Jo and Lily?” 

Sam glanced over at Andy, grateful that he’d finally joined the here and now and the conversation. “Left Lily watching over Jo. Visions tend to take a lot out of a person.”

Ava’s lips quirked as she stated dryly, “Tell me about it.” 

“Let’s head back to them.” Sam frowned and glanced around before making his way off the porch and back to the two he’d left behind. “I don’t like the idea of us split up.” 

Andy quickly fell instep beside him as Ava and Jake brought up the rear. His fingers flexed around the iron stoker and he twisted it so that the slightly curved end was pointed away his thigh so that it would do more damage when swung outward. Sam sighed as the adrenaline rush began to fade and left his body numb and his mind agitated as the quiet of the group’s surroundings began to sink in. 

“Um… Sam?” 

Ava voice disturbed that silence and Sam turned toward her gratefully. She made a motion with her hand and his gaze followed the length of her arm toward a bell set up in the center of town. His brows sloped downward as he made his way forward and brought the stoker slightly in front of his body as he freed himself of the cover of the shops and stepped out into the open. His eyes narrowed as he reached the worn and moss covered bell and saw the oak tree impressed on it—damn. 

Jake stepped around him and closer to the bell, frowning at the dilapidated construction as Sam shook his head and stated, “I’ve seen that bell before. I think I know where we are, Cold Oak, South Dakota.” He snorted, “A town so haunted, every single resident fled.” 

Ava’s eyes widened. “Swell. Good to know we’re somewhere so historical.” 

Andy’s brows pulled together. “How’d you see this thing?”

Ava blinked, turned to Andy. “What?”

The shorter man kept his hands in his pockets as he shrugged. “I just mean, how’d you notice this bell?”

“I just did.” Her gaze turned to Sam, pleading. “I’m not sure how,” her voice took on a somewhat frantic tone as she stepped closer to Sam, “I just did. Oh God, Sam!”

He lifted his hands. “Hey, it’s okay. Things like that can happen.” 

Jake and Andy sent him a considering look before shrugging in unison and Jake lifted a hand to the back of his head and asked, “So why and the hell are we here?” 

Sam frowned. “I was wondering the same thing.” 

“Does it matter?” Andy raised his brows at the rest of them. “I mean, shouldn’t we be getting outta here?” 

“The only way out of here is through miles of woods.” 

Sam’s easy words forced Andy back a step, but he met the taller man’s gaze nonetheless. “So?”

Ava’s lips thinned as she turned to Andy. “What about the demon?”

Sam nodded with Ava’s assumption and addressed the small group. “Look, we don’t know what’s going on yet. We don’t even know how many of _them_ are out there right now.” 

“I’m with Sam.” 

Jake glance at Ava, but nodded as well. “He’s right. We should ju—”

A feminine scream cut Jake off mid-word and the group spun toward the sound. Sam’s stomach knotted and he stated softly, “Lily and Jo,” before taking off the way they’d come with Ava, Andy and Jake not far behind. 

 

+

 

The presence at her side was comforting and Jo turned her head, glancing over her shoulder to offer Lily a sheepish smile. “Thanks for staying with me.” 

The other girl’s brows rose. “Like I _want_ to rush off to face a freaky demon kid?” 

“Yeah, I am the lesser of two evils,” she laughed.

Lily sat forward, propping her elbows on her knees and turned her head so that they were facing. “Ever think this is where you’d end up?” 

She snorted and glanced around the abandon buildings before lifting her foot and examining the mud caked to her cowboy boot. Her lips spread into a self-deprecating smile as she shifted her gaze back to Lily. “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t entirely surprised?” 

“Why’s that?”

“My life didn’t start changing a year ago,” Jo shrugged and added, “I’ve been having visions, or hallucinations as my doctors would put it, since I was eleven.” 

Lily stiffened and shifted so that her entire body was facing Jo. “Eleven? You’ve been going through this shit since you were a kid?” 

“Pretty much.” Her gaze shot up, eyes going wide. “Not that what I’ve been through is worse then you—”

Lily held up a hand, cut her off. “Shut up. You didn’t even imply that.” 

“Good. Thank God.” 

Lily leaned forward as she offered softly, “I miss her. All the damn time.” 

Jo blinked, her brows pulling together. “What was she like?”

“Smart. A hell of a lot smarter than me. And funny, kind.” Her mouth twisted into the echo of a real smile. “And hot,” she shook her head, “so damn hot.” 

Jo’s brows rose as she laughed. “Sounds like love.” 

“It was. She was the best thing that ever happened to me and I killed her.” 

“You didn’t kill her,” the venom in Jo’s voice jerked Lily’s focus back to her as she finished, “it was an accident.” 

“Does it matter?” 

“It will in time.” 

A sudden cold settled over Jo’s shoulders after her words and she shuddered, tucking her arms closer to her body as the hairs along the back of her neck rose. Green eyes narrowed, looking past Lily’s shoulder and toward the empty street. A child’s soft laughter pulled Jo up straighter and she watched Lily do the same, her gaze going past Jo before her eyes widened and she pushed herself to her feet and caught Jo’s arm, yanking her up as well. 

Jo spun, caught sight of the child from her vision standing only twenty feet away. Her startled cry stuck in her throat and she blinked, only to open her eyes and the child was suddenly at the porch steps. The two women stumbled back and the Lily turned, her hand still firmly wrapped around Jo’s bicep, and pulled her into the store behind them. Jo stepped ahead of her and Lily caught the door and slammed it behind them. 

The frame shuddered and Lily pushed Jo back and behind her as one of the panels in the window beside the door cracked, shattered and allowed an inky black cloud into the room. The child reformed before them and her hands lifted, fingers elongating as her nails curved downward and Jo turned, grapping Lily and ran for the back of the store. The child-like laughter followed them as they skirted around the shelving and Jo caught sight of another door along the far wall and darted toward it, Lily only a few steps behind. Her palm struck the wall to stop her forward momentum as she grasped the handle and pushed it inward, spilling her into a small shelf-lined room and not outside—dammit. 

She turned back saw the child just behind Lily and her breath caught in her throat as a hand struck her chest, shoving Jo further into the room. Pale green eyes met hers and Jo’s widened as Lily caught the doors handle and slammed it, trapping Jo in the room and herself outside with the demon. 

“Lily! No!” 

Jo lunged forward and caught the handle in her hands, shaking it before the wall, the entire room shuddered and she stumbled back. There was a shriek from the other side of the door and the wood groaned as it bent inward.

“No.” 

Jo whispered as another scream echoed in the enclosed room followed by a helpless gurgle. Blood seeped in through the crack under the door and inched its way closer to Jo and the sight of it brought her back to life and she grasped the handle once more. The scent of sulfur was overpowering and she swallowed her terror and yanked the door open. Lily’s mutilated upper body fell into the room and Jo’s hand tightened around the tarnished knob as the other rose to cup her mouth. Her vision blurred as she stared down into Lily’s lifeless eyes and she fell to her knees. 

The soft peal of laughter lifted her hand and Jo’s eyes narrowed on the demon with its bloody hands. Her voice was low as she stated, “Don’t.” 

The creature’s head cocked with her order as the front entrance to the shop exploded inward and Sam filled the entryway. His wide gaze taking in the scene before he ran forward and lunged, swinging a metal rod at the demon. It dissipated back into the inky cloud and spiraled upward through a vent in the ceiling as Jo dropped her head and reached forward to close Lily’s eyes. 

 

+

 

With a deft flick of his wrists Sam shook out the blanket he’d found in the trunk along with the rusted blade that was currently tucked into the waist of his jeans. He shook the blanket a few more times before tucking it over his arm and heading back into the small home he and Jake had cleared and toward the back room. He found Jo still sitting motionless in the chair Jake had placed her in nearly half an hour before. 

His lips thinned as he made his way forward and lifted the blanket up in the air before settling it over her shoulders. Her head rose, eyes slowly focusing on him as she straightened, her hands lifting to pull the wool blanket tighter. Sam squatted and ran his hands up and down her arms, trying to warm her as she continued to stare at him. 

Her voice was soft when she finally broke the silence, “Where are the others?” 

His head gaze lifted, caught hers as he continued to rub her arms. “Looking for iron, silver and salt.” 

Her lips dipped in confusion. “Salt?” 

He smiled as she echoed Jake’s disbelief and he gave her the same answer. “Brave new world.” 

She nodded. “Guess so.” 

“You gonna be okay?” 

Jo’s brows rose and she straightened, rising from the chair as she tucked the blanket around herself. “I’m being useless.” 

“No.” Sam’s hands rose to cup her shoulders but she resisted him when he pressed down, trying to guide her back into the chair. “Jo, you just went through a shock and—”

“And everyone else hasn’t?” She frowned. “Well maybe not you.” 

His lips quirked. “I’m not like most people.” 

“Who in this group is?” Jo visibly pulled herself up straighter and tilted her chin so that she could meet and keep Sam’s gaze. “Where do you want me to start looking first?” 

His head inclined. “How’a’bout we look together.” Her brows rose and he raised his hands. “I’d rather we stay in groups or at least in the same buildings as one another.” 

She frowned. “You were here the whole time?” 

He nodded. “Ava and I searched here while you…” 

Sam trailed off and Jo offered simply, “Broke down?” 

“Rested,” was his quick correction. 

Her lips quirked. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now let’s go find some weapons.” 

 

+

 

They’d removed Lily’s body from the small goods shop and Jo tried her damnedest to ignore the blood stains darkening the wood in front of the back room. She turned her head, disregarded Sam’s concerned look and his vehement instance that they could skip this location in their thorough search of all the stores located in this section of the deserted town, apparently called Cold Oak. 

Andy had met up with them outside the barber shop where Jo had claimed a rusted folding razor that she’d slipped into her boot while Sam was talking with Andy. It wasn’t a weapon on Sam’s list, but it’s presence, along with her spring blade, made her feel a bit better about their hopeless situation. She shook her head, that wasn’t anyway to keep herself sane and focused.

Freeing a hand from beneath the blanket keeping the cold at bay she pushed her hair behind her ears and bent to study the few cans that were still left on the shelves in front of her. Her nose wrinkled as she noticed how bloated they were and quickly surmised the contents were well past their expiration dates. With a sigh she rose and made her way over to another set of shelves and repeated the process until Andy drew her attention with an excited shout. 

“You guys! I found something!”

Her head lifted and Jo sighed since she couldn’t see past the highest shelf. Tightening her grip on the blanket and her sanity, she stepped away from racks and began to make her way towards the back of the store and Andy’s voice. Sam’s long stride beat hers and Jo couldn’t help but smile with the shorter man’s infectious laughter as he lifted two bags onto either of his shoulders and stated. “Salt!” 

Sam’s voice took on a happier tone, obviously infected with Andy’s enthusiasm. “That’s great, Andy. Now we can all sleep easier.” 

Jo’s brows rose towards her hairline. “We can?”

The taller man turned toward her. “Yeah, if we line the doors and windows with it.” His voice took on a lecturing tone as he added, “Demons can’t cross a line of salt.” 

Her head inclined. “Alright.” 

Sam’s brows rose as he questioned her easy acceptance, “Alright?”

She shrugged. “You’re the expert here.” 

“Yeah.” He sighed, glanced at Andy as he came to stand beside him. “You know, I was just thinking how much help Dean would be right now.” 

“Who’s Dean?” 

Sam turned back to Jo and answered, “My brother.” 

“He knows about this stuff? Like you do?” 

Sam nodded. “Oh yeah and right’a’bout now I’d give an arm for a working phone.” 

“Maybe you don’t have to.” Andy’s smile widened. 

 

+

 

The blanket had been folded, neat and even, and placed on the bench beneath the windows Ava had lined with salt earlier in the evening. Sam shifted, leaning back against one of those salt-lined windows and sighed as Jo took a seat beside him. The tension in his shoulders had tightened to just this side of painful after his ‘talk’ with Jake about not everyone here surviving. Unconsciously his focus turned to Jo as she leaned back, careful to avoid the salt line and turned her head so that their eyes met. 

He’d managed to avoid asking anyone in their small group the ‘stupidest question of all time’ as Dean would put it, but at the moment he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Are you alright?” 

“About as alright as one can be I guess.” Her brows rose as she prompted, “and you?”

“Been worse.” 

Her lips twisted into what Sam had decided was the closest Jo ever got to a real smile—at least in this place. “I can only imagine.” The humor left her features and she shook her head. “Scratch that. I don’t think I want to imagine worse things.” 

He snorted. “Yeah, probably not a good idea.” 

She shifted and reached up to unzip her jacket. The sound of the metal teeth releasing was unusually loud in the small room and Jo shrugged, letting the jacket gap open around her petite frame, revealing a ribbed tank beneath. Her hands pushed against the bench as she turned herself to face Sam fully and he frowned with the sudden and rather intense eye contact. 

Her pale lips thinned before she asked, “Do we have a chance in hell at making it?” 

Sam stiffened, body pulling up straight with her words and he glanced around the room, noting Andy and Ava conversing at the small table with Jake nearby them, standing guard at the only entrance to the room beside the windows. He turned back to Jo, prepared himself to placate her as best he could only to find her watching him, gaze intent and chin lifted in a slight show of defiance. 

His head inclined. “The truth?”

“Please.” 

The evenness to her tone and the steady directness of her gaze stopped Sam from giving her a bullshit response and instead he gave her the absolute truth as he knew it. “I don’t know.” 

Her shoulders sagged a bit, but she nodded. “Fair enough.” 

A silent moment descended over them and Sam scrambled to give them something else to focus on and he asked, rather lamely, “What do you do?”

Her head cocked and she smiled. “I’m a sales rep. for a trucking company.” 

His brows rose. “You like to travel?” 

She shrugged. “I tend to get restless if I stay too long in one place.” 

“My brother’s the same way.”

Her chin tilted. “And you’re not?”

He shook his head. “I’d like to settle down one day,” he paused before adding, “eventually.” 

“But now’s not the time?”

“No, not yet.” 

She paused before shifting closer to him and Jo’s voice dipped in pitch as she asked, “Earlier today when you mentioned that we were all twenty-three…” she hesitated and Sam leaned in closer, face falling into neutral lines as he nodded, prompting her to continue. She stared at him a moment longer before asking, “Is the age significant?” 

Sam paused, thinking a moment before answering. “I think so. I mean, everyone I’ve met with abilities has been twenty-three.” 

Jo’s frown deepened as she offered softly, “I’m not. Twenty-three that is.” 

His head cocked, brows rising. “Did you just turn twenty-four? I mean, you could be off by a few months or so—”

She interrupted him, voice urgent. “Sam, I’m twenty-six.” His eyes widened and she pushed forward before he could comment. “And I’ve been having visions since—”

“Ah-ah. I wouldn’t spill that secret just yet, Annie.” 

Jo’s eyes widened as Sam stiffened and suddenly pulled away from her to sag against the window behind him. His head lulled to the side, eyes falling closed and she turned her head, painfully slow, toward those sweetly drawled words. Her body went ridged with the sight of the man standing casually behind Jake and she resisted the urge to call out for the other strong-arm in their tiny group as she pushed herself to her feet and slipped a hand into the pocket of her jacket.

“That little trinket you’re reaching for won’t do much damaged but if it makes you feel better to hold it…” He trailed off and inclined his head. 

She swallowed and dropped her hand, laid it weaponless and loose at her side as she glared at the creature that had shoved her life back into the nuthouse. “I’m hallucinating.” 

“Or dreaming,” he smiled, “however you crazy kids describe it nowadays.” 

“What do you want?” 

“You.” 

Jo’s jaw tensed. “Go to hell.” 

“Been there, done that. Not as much fun as one might think.” He motioned her with his hand, turning toward the entrance behind him. “Come on, let’s go outside. Don’t want to disturb the others do we?” 

“I thought this was a dream.” 

“Exactly my point.” Her brows dropped in confusion and he sighed, “Come now, Annie. If I wanted you dead, you would be.” 

Jo hesitated a moment, gave Sam once last glance before moving around the still conversing Ava and Andy and followed the thing from the room. Her shoulder brushed Jake’s arm and he didn’t move, didn’t react and the sides of her eyes tightened as she pushed back the tears of frustration threatening to fall and swallowed the lump, the whimper in the back of the throat. They made their way through the darkened home, over the line of salt at the front door and either they truly were in a dream or Sam had been very, very wrong about what could and could not repel a demon. 

The outside was as cold as she remembered and she reached up, zipped her jacket closed and paused on the porch, waited for the demon to turn back to her before moving another inch. His hands slipped into the pockets of the jacket he wore and his head tilted back, that molted gaze directed at the starless sky above them as his breath misted on the air. He stilled, body sagging into the pose and Jo swallowed, crossing her arms around her body and resisted the urge to call out, to be the one to break the uneasy—for her—silence between them. 

“Annie, come join me.” 

Her nostrils flared, eyes narrowing further as she ground out. “Don’t call me that.” 

His head fell forward and he turned that saffron colored gaze on her as he corrected. “But that’s who you are. You’re not Joanna Mills.” He tsk’ed her and shook his head. “You’re my Annie.”

“I’m not _your_ anything.” 

“Wrong.” He moved toward her and Jo took a step back, toward the salt-line that would do her no good and he smirked. “You’re my special one. The only one from the last generation that didn’t fizzle out.” 

Her brows sloped down. “Generation,” then rose, “Sam and the others are—”

“This generation,” he interrupted and then continued, “You always were smart.”

“Why?” Her breath hitched on the question and it came out as a muffled whisper that turned his head.

“Why what, Annie?” 

“Why any of this?” Her voice rose, anger controlling her as she took a step forward and asked, “What could you hope to accomplish by trapping us here?” 

“To figure out who’s the best and brightest.” His brows rose. “Come now, you’re telling me you hadn’t already figured that out?” 

She shook her head. “What? We’re just supposed to kill each other off like some horrible real life enactment of Clue? How does that give you an army?”

“I don’t need an army.” 

“They what are we?” Her brows rose. “Pawns?” 

“Not you.” His head inclined and he took another step closer to the porch she stood on as he added, “And not Sam. Sammy’s my favorite, the one I’m rooting for, but the others…” he trailed off and smiled.

Green eyes widened, met molten yellow as the pieces of what Sam had said, implied fell into place with what this bastard had told her and she whispered, “Sam’s gonna be your general.” 

“Give the lady a prize.” 

“Then what do you need me for?” 

“Once Sam accepts who and what he is, he’s gonna need someone smart, gifted to watch his back and I can’t think of anyone better, more suited for the job.” His boot slid onto the first step and he moved onto it while keeping her gaze as he finished. “Which means I need to hide you away for a little while, can’t have Jake killing you.” 

Her eyes widened as she spat, “What?” 

His head inclined as he corrected. “Or Ava. No need to worry about Andy though. He’s too sweet for this kinda life.” His chin dipped as he took the last to steps and added, “He’s not like us.” 

“We are _nothing_ alike.” 

“Aren’t we?”

“No.” 

His eyes narrowed. “So you planned to tell Sam the whole truth just now? Every detail of who you are?” 

Her gaze slid from his and past him, watched as the clouds thinned enough to bring forth the lightest shine to the wet ground as the freed moonlight caught the moisture there. She swallowed and glanced up, saw the stars begin to appear one at a time and ignored the tears that crept out of the corners of her eyes. 

“My sweet Annie.” He hushed her and lifted his hand, drew a thumb across her right cheek, smearing the wet trail. She jerked back from his touch and his hand shifted, sifting through her hair to grasp a handful at the base of her skull. Her eyes widened as he drew her closer and she reached for the spring blade. 

Her eyes dried as she looked up, locked gazes with his and growled through clenched teeth. “Let go of me.” 

Cold fingers wrapped around the honey horn handle and she sprang the blade before pulling it free of her pocket as his hand tightened and he jerked her head. She gritted her teeth against the slight pain and his face lowered, drawing closer as he held her immobile and stated softly and with great certainty, “Never, sunshine.” 

Her stomach knotted as she plunged the thin blade into his chest, between the third and fourth rib to the left of his sternum. His molten eyes widened a moment, but then a flash of something close to pride entered that frightening gaze and Jo twisted the handle of her blade, drove it deeper. His free arm rose, knocking her arm aside and he spun them, using his grip on her hair to guide her into one of the many posts holding the porch’s roof aloft. 

Her forehead stuck with a sickening crack that vibrated down into her jaw and black streamers slipped across her vision as her face fell numb. He pulled her back and she stumbled, legs useless, as he shoved her into the porch railing. She flipped over it, landing on her back in the thick mud and she blinked up at the moon as the demon made his way down the steps and towards her. 

His body blocked the moonlight and Jo blinked, tried to focus through the dimming of her vision and her brows tugged together as she watched him pull her blade from his chest and drop it beside her. She attempted to shake her head to clear it and flinched at the wave of nausea that watered her mouth and she swallowed twice before managing to whisper one word, “Dreaming.” 

The demon knelt, smiled down at her as he pushed at lock of hair caught in the gash he’d opened along her forehead. Her mouth tightened against the pain and his smile widened. “I did say you were dreaming and you are. I just neglected to mention the possible side effects such as cotton mouth, upset stomach and sleep walking.” 

His hand twisted to draw soft knuckles across her cheek and down her jaw. It was too great an effort for her to turn her head away from his touch and her teeth clenched, her abdomen trembling as her breath shuddered out. He gripped her chin and held her still as he caught her gaze and the pinpoint that was his pupil widened, stretched and Jo felt a tug in the back of her head, along the edge of her mind and then nothing.

 

+

 

The sun slipped through the fractured glass of the window, spilling light across the worn blankets. It leached its way forward, up the cot and over Jo’s supine form. Crawling past her thighs and stomach to catch the metal zipper of her jacket and flash bits of light across her slack features as her chest expanded with each breath. Her brows pulled together and she turned her head and body, rolling onto her side and pushing her face into the too thin pillow. 

Pain, sharp and instant speared through sleep muddled thoughts and she jerked awake, pushing herself up and onto her forearms. She blinked, vision focusing slowly as her hair spilled forward, past her shoulders to curtain her face as she stared down at the blood smeared on the pillow. Her eyes widened, breathe catching as her memories returned in a rush and she lifted a hand to probe gently at the right side of her forehead. 

A hiss of pain escaped past clenched teeth as she fingered the edge of the two inch gash where her flesh had split on impact and the skin around it felt tight, swollen. She swallowed past a suddenly tight throat and carefully pulled her legs up and over the side of the bed. Her palm came to rest on the wall beside her and she used that stable support to help herself to stand. The room remained steady but the ache behind her eyes increased and she closed them, lashes pressed tight to her cheeks as she breathed past the pain and counted slowly to ten before opening them again. 

The world seemed brighter, more intense and she ducked her chin, ignored the slight pain as her hair fell forward to block the sun and brushed against the wound on her forehead. She pushed off from the wall and stumbled past an upturned chair and toward the open door. Her hand caught the worn doorframe, gripped it as she tugged herself free of the room and into a narrow hall lined with framed photographs. The heavy scraping of her cowboy boots forced Jo to lift her feet, put more effort into her ability to walk, as she followed the hallway. 

She ignored her nagging doubts, the silence that permeated her surroundings and the dread easing its way into her thoughts. The hand at her side clenched and she pushed herself forward, past the contents of a living room and toward the closed front door. Sunlight glinted through the windows beside it and she blinked past the sudden onslaught and hurried forward, grasping the brass knob and turned it. Spilling herself out into the open and Jo stumbled across the porch and onto the mud covered street. 

Her heel dug into the malleable ground and she spun, lifting a hand to shield her eyes as she looked up and down the street for any sign of life, any sign of Sam, of Andy. Her stomach knotted as the silence remained her only companion and she broke, her voice cracking as she called out, “Sam!” She lurched forward, down the street and towards the shop the small group and holed themselves in the night before. 

“Sam! Andy!” She coughed, her voice breaking as she pushed onward and shouted, “Hello? Anyone!”

Her shoulders sagged and she turned, taking several steps backwards as she called behind her, “Hello! Sam! Andy!” 

“JO!” 

The shout of her name had her spinning and her eyes widened as Sam came from one of the many shops lining the street. Her breath caught as he called her name again and hurried down the few steps that lead onto the street as another man filled the doorway he’d just vacated. A narrowed look was sent her way as Sam rushed forward and pulled her into his arms and she sagged against him, the stranger forgotten for the moment as her arms slipped around Sam’s waist and she welcomed the contact of another human being. 

Sam’s arms tightened, following her example before he pulled back, held her at arms length and his intense blue-green gaze began an intent study of her. His mouth thinned as he took in the damage to her forehead and a hand rose from her arm to push at the hair blocking his view. She flinched and jerked back from the contact as his head inclined and he asked, “Did Ava do this?” 

Her stomach knotted as she questioned, “Ava?” Her eyes widened, “He said she’d kill me. Or Jake.”

Sam’s head cocked. “Who said?” 

“There was a man,” she shook her head and corrected, “not a man. He had yellow eyes and he felt…he felt wrong.” 

Sam’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth, but another voice cut through their conversation, cut through the moment of understanding and had Sam pulling back from her completely. 

“Sammy?” Her tall savior turned, stepped aside so that Jo could see the other man, see the tension in his stubble-covered jaw and the mistrust thinning his mouth. “Who’s your friend?” 

“Dean,” Sam paused turned back to Jo and caught her arm, pulled her forward and closer to him in the same movement. “Dean, this Jo. She was brought here with the others.” 

“Was she?” Hazel-flecked eyes narrowed further and Jo resisted the urge to take a step back or into Sam, instead her spine stiffened and she met his glare with one of her own. Dean’s head inclined and a smirk twisted his features as he strolled forward, closer to them. “I thought you said only one of you could win?”

Sam shrugged. “They left me for dead.”

“Right.” Dean turned his focus on Jo as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Is that what happened? They left you for dead.” 

She shook her head and winced when her hair caught on the gash. With an annoyed push of her hand she tucked the loose strands behind her ears and lifted her chin. “No. The demon,” Jo glanced up at Sam to confirm the right title and he nodded, she continued, “the demon lured me outside. He attacked and the next thing I know I’m waking up and it’s dawn.”

“So what you’re sayin’ is that Yellow Eyes just whisked you away and kept you outta harms way.”

Her eyes narrowed at the disbelief lace through Dean’s words and she answered his unasked question with a simple, “Yes.”

“Why?”

Her jaw tensed, chin lifting as she looked up at Sam before answering his question with a lie. “I don’t know.” 

“Bullshit.” 

She turned back to Dean. “Go to hell.” 

A muscle in his jaw twitched with her order and he took a step forward and Sam moved to intercede. He caught his brother’s arm and they spun, moving several away feet as their voices dipped into harsh whispers and Jo ignored them, ignored her own shortcomings and her shoulders sagged as the weight of everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours came to settle there. Her brows sloped and she glanced around the area, gaze flitting across each building before her stomach knotted. 

“Guys?” They ignored her and she sighed, stepping forward and trying again. “Guys! Hey!” They jerked apart and Jo’s gaze settled on Sam. “Where’s Andy?” 

Her throat tightened with the pained look Sam was giving her and she took a step back, arms coming up to wrap tight around her waist as a whispered, “No,” escaped her. 

“Jo.” Sam took a step forward, toward her and hesitated before stating. “Ava used the Acheri to kill him.” 

Jo blinked, frowned. “The what?” 

Sam’s head inclined before understanding dawned and he explained, “The demon that killed Lily. It was being controlled by Ava.” 

“Ava could control demons?” 

Dean arched a brow. “Yeah, you crazy kids have all sorts of powers.” His eyes narrowed, “What’s yours?”

“Dean.”

He glanced at Sam, “What? I think I should know at least that much about her.” 

“Give it a rest. I trust her, alright.” 

“Like you _trusted_ Ava?”

Sam’s jaw tensed and Jo’s eyes narrowed and she brought a hand up to her mouth, slipping her thumb and forefinger between her lips and flattened her tongue before giving a shrill whistle that broke the brothers apart. They spun, giving her their full attention and she shook her head. “Thank you, Sam and Dean, I get visions.”

Dean snorted, “Like Ava.”

“Dude.” 

Jo cut through Sam’s protest and stated, “Yes, like Ava. But unlike her I can’t control demons.” 

His head cocked and Dean took a step forward, past Sam and within touching distance of the small brunette. “Ever tried?”

Her brows pulled together. “Excuse me?” 

“How do you know if you haven’t tried?”

“Dean, shut up!” 

Dean spun back to Sam, careful to avoid giving Jo his back as anger spilled into his voice. “No! Every time you trust one of these people they turn on you! They try’n kill you! How many times I gotta save your ass before you figure that out?” 

Sam’s eyes narrowed as he retorted, “I’m one of these people, Dean. Whether you like it or not. I _am_ one of them and if I’m not going dark side then maybe there’s a chance…” 

He trailed off and Jo’s shoulders sagged, exhaustion slipping in to replace her fear and she turned, addressed Dean. “Are you going to kill me?”

Sam’s head jerked towards her. “No!”

Her gaze never left Dean as Jo lifted her brows. “I’m not asking you, Sam. I’m asking your brother.” Her head cocked. “Are you going to kill me or not?” She watched his jaw tense, but he remained silent and she sighed. “Okay, then. Can we please leave now?” 

 

+

 

White teeth sank into a bottom lips as Jo leaned forward, over the ceramic sink and tried to keep her hands steady as she applied closure tape to the gash across her forehead. Her fingers tensed as she pushed the sticky edge against her skin before gritting her teeth and compressing the laceration so that two sides met. She swallowed and tried to pull the closure tape over the wound, around her hand and it snapped back, out of her fingers and fluttered uselessly to the sink. 

“Dammit!” The aggravated word crawled its way out of her throat and she kicked the cabinet before stepping back and burying her face into her hands. Jo pressed her fingers against her closed eyelids, willing the back the tears of frustration as her shoulders began to shake. 

A hesitant knock at the bathroom door lifted her head and she flinched at the sight of her own reflection. “Jo?” The tension in her chest eased with the sound of Sam’s voice and she turned, reaching for the handle and opening the door as he continued, “Jo? It’s Sam.”

She peered up at him through damp lashes and he offered her a sympathetic smile. “You alright?” He flinched and shook his head. “I keep asking you that.” 

Her lips quirked and she stepped back, motioned toward the sink and the bandages that Bobby, the homeowner, had been kind enough to supply. “I have no idea what I’m doing.” 

“Yeah, that stuff isn’t the easiest to use. Here.” Sam stepped in and laid his hands on her shoulders, guiding her back towards the bathtub and seated her on the edge. 

He turned to the sink and gathered up the tape and the damp washcloth she’d been using before going to his knees in front of her. He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and dipped it, turning her face towards the wall so he could reach the gash. Her vision blurred, distorting the floral wallpaper as he wiped at the edges of the wound. Cleaning the torn and abused skin with slow, sure movements before he rose and blew at it, drying the area and Jo’s eyes closed against tender handling, so similar to Terry. Her throat tightened and she swallowed, pushing back the fresh batch of tears as Sam applied the closure tape with the same gentle consideration. 

“Hey.” 

Her eyes opened and she turned her face forward, met Sam’s concerned stare head-on as she offered tiredly, “Thank you.” 

His brows pulled together. “You gonna be okay?” 

Her mouth twisted and she glanced down, frowning at her pale hands as they twisted in her lap and she separated them, wiping the dampness of her palms against a pair jeans that had seen better days. The laugh that escaped her raised the hairs along her bare forearms and she stated, “Sure. I’m gonna be great.” Her head rose as she finished, “I mean, I’m in a person’s home that looks at me as if I might be the devil incarnate and your brother, as caring as he seems to be of you, wants me dead—”

He cut her off, “No, he doesn’t.” Her brows shot up and Sam grimaced, conceding, “Okay, maybe a little.” 

The next laugh to escape Jo was more genuine, less broken and she shook her head. “What am I doing here? How am I of any help to you, Sam?” 

“Come on,” was his answer as he stood, offering her a hand and Jo sighed, taking it. Sam led them from the bathroom and down a hall lined with book-filled shelves, old well-worn books in every size and color. Jo inclined her head, looked up to see the top of each bookcase held dusty artifacts and wooden boxes with symbols craved into them. She hesitated at the entry to the living room and her pause drew Sam up short and he turned back, offered her an encouraging smile before tugging her forward. 

She stumbled and winced, freeing her hand from Sam and placing herself at his shoulder as they made their way toward the dinning room table overflowing with more of those broken-in books. The owner of the home, Bobby Singer, looked up and fixed her with an even stare that had Jo resisting the urge to cross her arms protectively over the center of her body. There was movement beside her and Jo quickly stepped back and to the side, slightly behind Sam. 

She caught Dean’s dumbfounded expression and frowned at the beer he was now offering to thin air. Hazel-flecked eyes narrowed and he sighed, “Look, I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

Her lips thinned. “Bullshit.” 

“Oh, he won’t touch you if he knows what’s good fer him.” The gravel tone had Jo relaxing as the woman, who had appeared on Bobby’s doorstep moments behind Jo and the Winchesters, stepped up behind Dean with three Coors in her hands. 

“I’m _not_ going to touch her, Christ.” 

Ellen’s brows rose. “Exactly right.” Her gaze turned back to Jo and she motioned her to take a beer.

Jo stepped around Sam and gave Dean a wide berth before hesitantly accepting a Coors and offered the other woman a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks.” 

“Alright then, if everyone’s settled, can we please get back to the cluster-fuck that’s about to happen?” 

The impatience in Bobby’s voice turned Jo away from Ellen and she watched Sam grab the beer Dean had been offering her and twist off the top. She followed his example as she moved to take the chair with her jacket draped over the back. The beer was beyond cold as she took the first sip and welcomed the yeasty flavor before she sat and ignored the shot glass directly in front of her that had been filled with holy water for her and then Ellen to drink. She settled her beer on the table and watched Bobby rise, place a book in the center of the group. 

“So each of these Xs on Ash’s map is an abandon frontier church. All mid-nineteenth century, all built by Samuel Colt.”

Jo’s brows pulled together as the others stiffened with the name and Dean leaned forward, folding his arms on the table as he asked, “Samuel Colt? The demon-killing, gun-making Samuel Colt?”

Bobby nodded. “Yep, and there’s more. He built private railway lines,” he paused, dragging the map Sam and Dean had been studying to the top of the pile and pulled out a sharpie from his jeans before continuing, “connecting church to church. It just happens to lay out like this.” He used the sharpie to connect all the Xs on the map, creating a star that Jo would have drawn when she was a younger. 

“Tell me that’s not what I think it is?” 

Jo sighed, again feeling well out of her depth with Dean’s question and then even more so after Sam’s answer of, “It’s a Devil’s Trap. A hundred-square mile Devil’s Trap.” 

Before she could even contemplate asking what in the hell a Devil’s Trap was Dean started in with, “That’s brilliant. Iron lines demons can’t cross.”

Ellen leaned forward from her place beside Jo and pulled the map closer. “I’ve never heard of something that massive.” 

Bobby shook his head. “No one has.” 

“And after all these years none of the lines are broken? I mean, it still works?”

Sam nodded at Dean’s question and answered, “Definitely.” 

Before anyone could hazard a response to Sam’s certainty Jo spoke up and asked, “What’s a Devil’s Trap?” 

The foursome stopped, turned to look at her and she held herself still under their scrutiny and Dean shifted, putting more weight on his crossed arms as he stated. “Think of it like a roach motel for demons. They can get it but can’t get out.” His brows pulled together and he looked to Bobby, “That brings up a good point, what if this thing isn’t trying to keep the demons out? What if it’s tryin’ to keep something in?” 

Jo’s stomach knotted as Ellen voiced the room’s unease. “Well, that’s a comforting thought.” 

Dean’s brows rose as he explained, “But there’s an only old cowboy cemetery in the middle of it.”

Sam frowned. “All those omens Bobby found. I mean, all those demons are circling it and they can’t get in. What could be in an old cemetery that they’d want?” 

Bobby’s mouth thinned behind his beard and he sat, straightening the trucker hat that he wore with a deft movement of his hands. “There’s no way of knowing.” 

“There might be.” Jo flinched as the room once again turned to her and she shifted in her seat before settling her gaze on Sam. “I mean, a vision might tell us something.” 

Sam frowned. “I can’t force a vision. They just sorta come to me.” His head cocked, “Can you?”

“Sometimes. I get the random ones too, but I have a trigger that usually brings them on.” 

Ellen’s brows rose. “A trigger?” 

Jo’s head bobbed. “Yeah.” 

“So what is it?”

Her mouth dipped with Dean’s too straightforward question and she turned her head to look directly at him as she answered, “Self-inflicted pain.” 

“What?” Sam’s brows rose, the dropped. “No.”

“Sam—”

He cut her off and reiterated, “No!” 

“How do you know this?”

Jo sighed and lifted her arms, stretching them across the map for Bobby to study. “You didn’t notice the scars?” 

A muscle in Dean’s jaw flexed. “So you force yourself to have visions? Care to tell us why?” 

Her mouth thinned and Jo shrugged. “Been doing it since I was eleven.”

“Why in the sam hell have you been cutting yourself since you were eleven?” 

The outrage in Ellen’s voice eased some of the tension from Jo as she recognized the mothering instinct but it was Sam that answered for her in a horrified voice. “That’s when you started getting visions. Jesus, Jo.” 

She sighed and spoke before the next person could jump on the too many pain-filled questions bandwagon and asked, “Do you want me to try or not?” 

There were two ‘no’ and two ‘yes’ which left Jo with a raised eyebrow as she addressed Ellen and Sam. “Sorry, but it looks like I’m the tie breaker and I vote yes.” 

“Jo—”

She cut across Sam’s protest. “No, Sam. You brought me here. At least let me try and help.” 

“Jo, you don’t need to do this to prove something. We’re gonna go there and stop whatever’s happening no matter what.” 

Dean nodded with Sam’s assessment and Jo listened in stunned silence as he offered her an out as well. “Sam’s right. You don’t have to do this. It’d be nice not to go in blind but it’s not like we haven’t done it before.” 

Green eyes flicked around the table and she saw Ellen’s firm frown that lined her brow and added a half a decade to the age Jo had previously guessed her at. She shifted, settled her gaze on Bobby and smiled at the considering look he was gracing her with before turning to Dean and his completely neutral stare—the first he’d ever given her. 

She just managed to resist the urge to turn to Sam, to see the look of disappointment or pleading she knew he’d be giving her and instead Jo stayed silent and nearly motionless a moment longer, savoring the fact that for the first time, in a long time, she felt like she belonged. 

The moment passed and Jo stated, “I need something with a sharp edge.” 

 

+

 

Bobby’s home was quiet; the others have long since departed with more knowledge and heavier thoughts after Jo’s vision. She shifted, lifting her feet from the coffee table in front of her and closed the book in her lap with a resolute snap as she struggled to push away the image of Ellen with a gun to her head, of the boys hesitating a fraction too long in doing as Jake asked and of the crack as the trigger was pulled. And then the blood, the blood that suddenly poured from Ellen’s mouth as she fell. 

Jo gagged and dropped her head between her knees, breathed in deep as she counted to ten and waited for the nausea to pass. This was why she’d stayed behind, this weakness that would have gotten the others killed. They didn’t need—and in Dean’s case didn’t want—someone like her slowing them down. 

She took a shuddering breath and righted herself, sitting back against the under-stuffed cushions of Bobby’s couch and her gaze locked on Dean’s cell phone. They’d left it behind for Jo to use incase something, someone came after her. All she had to do was press ‘one’ and then ‘talk’ as she ran for her life. Though if something could get past the runes and Devil’s Traps laying around Bobby’s home Jo highly doubted calling Sam would save her. She leaned forward and snatched up the phone, turning the thin contraption around in her hands. 

It flipped open with the crack of plastic striking plastic and she stared at the LCD screen a moment before dialing the area code 210 and then a phone number she knew by heart. Swallowing past the tightness in her throat she lifted the phone to her ear and waited. It rang four times before a confused, “Hello?” greeted her.

“Michelle?”

There was a pregnant pause before her best friend responded, “Jo? Where are you calling from?”

She flinched, tightening her grip on the cell. “Michelle, I need a favor.” 

Concern crept into Michelle’s voice. “What? What is it?” 

“I need you to come pick me up.” 

“Sure, of course. Where?” Her jaw tensed and she hesitated long enough for Michelle to question, “Jo? Hello? You still there?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m here. I’m in South Dakota.” 

“What?” The shouted response forced Jo to yank the phone from her ear and she winced as Michelle rattled on. “Jesus, Jo! That’s a days ride at least. I gotta work tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry. I am, I just…” She trailed off and sighed, “I shouldn’t have called you.” 

“Shut up.” Her brows rose with Michelle’s instant retort. “Where in South Dakota are you?” 

Jo shifted the phone closer and answered, “Singer’s Salvage Yard. It’s near Rapid City.” 

There was a very put upon sigh before Michelle repeated the name of Bobby’s business back to her and finished with, “I’ll Mapquest it and then head out.” She hesitated before stating, “Jo, you’re gonna be there for a good long while ‘fore I get there.”

“I know.” 

Another pause before Michelle added. “Alright. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Should I call this number if I need to reach you?” 

“Yeah. I’ll keep it by me.” 

“Jo, what’s going on?” 

She sighed, suddenly exhausted and stated, “It’s a long story and we’re gonna have about an eighteen hour drive ahead of us when we head back.” 

“Christ, don’t remind me. You’re drivin’ back.” 

“Deal.” 

“See you when I get there.” 

 

+

 

The Impala rolled into the salvage yard and Dean slowly compressed the break, bringing his baby to a stop with barely a jolt. The passenger door groaned its way open and Sam caught the edge of the door, pulling himself free of the car before stretching that long frame of his skyward. Shaking his head Dean put shoulder to door and spilled himself into the late afternoon sunshine, grateful Jo had assured Sam she’d be fine one night alone at Bobby’s if the group caught up on some sleep at a motel in Wyoming. 

The Charger that pulled in beside Dean growled before the engine ticked off and he shook his head at Sam as he made his way around the front of the orange classic toward the side entrance to house. He took the few steps leading up to the door in one bound and knocked. Bobby raised his brows as he slammed the door to his car and the passenger door echoed that sharp bang as Ellen mimicked his movements. The threesome moved toward Sam and the back door as little brother gave another impatient knock and shouted, “JO! It’s Sam!”

Dean stiffened and shared a look of concern with Bobby before the older man moved ahead of him and towards Sam. He pushed the younger man aside and quickly unlocked the door, spilling himself inside with Sam only a step behind both calling out for Jo. Ellen followed Dean as he pulled his Colt 1911 free of the back of his jeans and made his way into the house. His eyes shifted around the well-lit interior as he made his way forward, Ellen shadowing his steps. 

He could hear Sam and Bobby moving from room to room, shouting, their voice laced with fear and worry. His brows sloped downward as he reached the living room and noticed the substantial lack of clutter and dust. His head cocked when he saw his cell lay in the center of the freshly scrubbed coffee table and he strode toward it, hand descending to pick his cell up when he saw a piece of paper tucked underneath of it and his frown deepened as he pulled it free to read the neatly printed words. 

“SAM!”

His shout brought everyone and he sighed as he handed his brother the note with two simple sentences printed on it, “Thank you.” and, “Good luck.” There wasn’t a signature, there wasn’t need for one. His eyes widened and he bent, grabbed his phone and flipped it open before bringing up his call history only to find it blank and his brows rose in slight admiration. 

“She’s gone.” 

Dean looked up to see Sam hand the note to Bobby as Ellen peered at it over the older hunter’s shoulder. Little brother’s mouth dipped as he sat, folding himself down into the most uncomfortable couch that Bobby claimed kept visitors to a minimum—Dean figured he was just too damn lazy to go looking for another. 

“You really expected her to stay? She’s not like us Sam.”

His brother’s chin lifted and he fixed Dean with gaze that was too damn close to emotional for him to be comfortable with but he followed his brother down and laid an unease hand on his shoulder. 

“She could’ve learned.”

His brows rose with Sam’s insistence and he asked, “You really want that for her?”

“Dean’s right, Sam.” The brothers turned, looked to Ellen as she took a seat on the coffee table across from them. “Joanna was tough, probably tougher than even she knew, but she doesn’t have to live in this world. And it’d be wrong to force her.” 

Sam’s shoulders dropped and he nodded. “I know that. It just woulda been nice to have someone who understood.” 

“You still got that, Sam, but this way she’s not in the line of fire.” 

Dean inclined his head in agreement with Ellen’s statement as Bobby came to stand to the side of the group and Sam shook his head. “No, I don’t. ‘Cause she never told me her last name.” Dean tensed and noticed the others do the same and Sam nodded to himself, “So, yeah.” 

“We can find her.”

Sam glanced at Dean and raised his brows. “How?” 

“We’ll find a way.” He grinned, nodded. “We always do.” 

 

+

 

An insensate chirp interrupted Jo’s careful study of the Hartman Oil Company and she lifted her head from the folders and files spread across the motel’s small table and stood, making her way towards the dresser and the corner that held the coffee maker. The bold scent of Espresso Roast filled the small room as she freed the pot and filled one of the motel’s supplied ceramic mugs. Replacing the pot, she lifted the coffee and brought it to her mouth, blowing across the top before taking the first sip. 

Her eyes closed and she allowed herself that one quiet moment before pushing away from the dresser and immersing herself back into her work. It had been nearly six weeks since her world had been shot to hell—again—and she had no plans on letting herself get dragged back into the depression that had settled over her once she and Michelle had entered her childhood home to find her father dead, his throat slit. 

The mug was lifted and she swallowed the bitter liquid, welcomed it’s warmth before setting it down and tugging at the sleeves of her hoodie sweater up her forearms. The grief had almost crippled her, but it had eventually melted away to a hardness that seemed to turn Michelle away from her and Jo hated that, hated that her best friend now looked at her with even eyes and quiet stares. So when the police investigation was over and her father’s home had been placed on the market Jo had fled, throwing herself back into her work and securing three more contracts before her boss, Ambrose Miller, had sent her after Hartman. 

Her eyes narrowed and she picked up a manila folder, stared blankly at the excel spread sheet before her jaw tensed and she pushed away from the table and stood. She ran damp palms down the sides of her corduroy pants as she moved toward the bed and her duffle that was flung across it. She caught the leather strap and tugged it forward, over the nylon and cotton comforter until she could reach the zipper. It gave easily and she freed the plastic toiletries container from the upper compartment and began to make her way to the bathroom and a hot shower that would help to clear her head. 

The door to her motel room vibrated with a heavy knock and Jo stiffened, her hand clenching around the travel-case. Her stomach tightened as she turned on her heel and padded barefoot across the thin carpet toward the door. She paused and turned back to the bed, tossing the plastic case onto it before wiping her hands on her slacks and finishing the last few feet between her and the peephole in a two quick strides. 

Warm palms pressed against the door, anchoring her as Jo rose on tiptoe to peer through that small hole in the door. The curved glass disturbed the image, forming a bubble around the outside world and for a moment the sun glinted off the windshield of her truck and blinded her. She blinked, pupil contracting until she could see past the glare and a slim blonde stepped into view. 

Jo’s brows pulled together and for a moment her visitor’s moss-colored gaze locked on the peephole and glossed lips curved upward before the woman asked, her voice muffled but conversational, “You gonna open the door or not?” 

She jerked back from peephole and tugged the sleeves of her sweater down, suddenly cold in the climate controlled room. There was another decisive knock that drew Jo’s focus from her sudden discomfort back to the door and she hesitated a moment before wrapping her hand around the cylinder handle and reached up to flip the deadbolt and remove the chain from it’s latch. Her breath caught and she swallowed past the urge to cough and opened the door, stepping behind it so that it acted as a slight shield. 

Those moss green eyes narrowed on her face and her visitor’s lips spread wider, revealing straight, white teeth. “You’re a hard woman to track down, Joanna Mills.” Her brows rose. “Or do you prefer Annie?” 

Jo’s back straightened and she shoved the door, putting her weight behind it and the woman’s arm lashed out, palm-slapping the wood and stopping Jo’s forward momentum with apparent ease. Her head inclined as she crossed the threshold and Jo shifted back, away from the intruder as she calmly closed the door behind her. Green eyes settled on her once more and Jo swallowed, taking in the slim jeans tucked tight into knee-high boots and the faded tee the girl wore under an old bomber jacket. 

She spun on her boot heel and strolled toward the small dinette set, fingers tracing over the Jo’s paperwork before they settled on her coffee cup and she grasped the top, lifted it and turned back to Jo as she inched closer to the door. 

“Do you mind?” 

She lifted the cup and Jo didn’t fight the frown that spilled across her features as she shrugged and stated, her voice dry. “Help yourself.” 

Her eyes gathered at the corners. “Thanks.” The mug was lifted and she took a sip. Her smile becoming genuine as she lowered the cup and turned her study from Jo to the room. “I have to say that you do have better taste than the Winchesters.” She cocked her head, straight blonde hair slipping forward, over her shoulders as she read into Jo’s confusion and clarified, “Sam and Dean.” 

The woman placed Jo’s coffee back on the table and dipped her chin. Her slanted bangs fell to cover her forehead before she raised her face and the moss green had been replaced by inky black and she stepped forward, closer. Jo’s chest tightened, but she resisted the urge to retreat, give ground—if she was going to die she might as well be brave, no matter how stupid it may be. 

The blonde’s head cocked and her lips curved upward. “You’ve got a spine.” She blinked and her eyes were green once again. “That’ll come in handy.” She stepped forward, closing the space between in a few quick rolls of her hips. “I’m Ruby. I’m here to get you ready.” 

Jo shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “Ready? For what?”

“War.” 

 

_The End._


End file.
